


if you can't beat 'em, join 'em

by knoxoursavior



Series: the paparazzi ships parksborn AU [1]
Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: Everyone's happy, M/M, harry and peter don't do complicated, sorta - Freeform, the paparazzi and their silliness, they get their happy ending yay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-08
Updated: 2014-05-08
Packaged: 2018-01-24 00:05:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1584392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knoxoursavior/pseuds/knoxoursavior
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The rumors start a week after they started hanging out again, which is a miracle in Harry's books. Peter's just stumped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if you can't beat 'em, join 'em

**Author's Note:**

> au where gwen and peter stay friends, and peter and harry meet up a lot more times than just that day skipping rocks and harry telling peter he needs spiderman's blood
> 
> also translated into [Chinese](http://coffeyland.lofter.com/post/37863e_13c5bcd) by [Coffey](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Coffey/pseuds/Coffey)

The day after Peter swooped in and took Harry away from the mean old board members, they meet up again. This time, Harry's knocking on the Parkers' doorstep, holding a box and a bouquet of flowers. He's wearing a white shirt and black pants, a jacket hanging on his arm. Peter freezes for a moment, because right now, Harry looks so much like the kid who bailed on his driver and his limousine so he could use the extra skateboard Peter brought for him. Harry looks like the punk who would groan even louder than he would whenever Aunt May forced a third helping on their plates because _look at you boys, you're both so skinny!_

"Are you gonna let me in?" Harry says, his lips curling into a smirk.

"Oh." Peter steps back awkwardly, letting Harry pass. "Sorry."

"Is your Aunt May in?" Harry says, looking around the living room. He isn't wearing his sunglasses today, so Peter can see how his eyes are azure blue in the dim light.

"No. She’s at work, but she'll be back by seven." Peter grins. "Why, you hungry already?"

"Well, I haven't had anyone to fatten me up these past eight years."

Harry reaches up to open a cabinet, only to find that he can't reach the top shelf where the vase is, so he glares at Peter until he stops laughing and comes to help.

"I guess now we know why I got taller than you," Peter says smugly. “Aunt May made it her mission to get me to drink three glasses of milk a day until I was thirteen.”

"Shut up. I'm delightfully compact. Ask all the supermodels I've been with."

Harry snorts when Peter punches his arm lightly.

"All right, all right. I believe you, Young Master Osborn," Peter says, raising his hands in surrender. "Now, come on. Wii?"

"As long as I get to tackle you to the ground if I lose," Harry says. "Which I won't."

Peter rolls his eyes. "You really haven't changed a bit, you know?"

Harry all but _beams_. "Good."

Before Aunt May gets home, Harry manages to get Peter in a headlock a grand total of three times.

 

 

The next day, Peter texts Harry at five in the morning. He's been up all night, staring at his wall, trying to make sense of his dad's stuff. He's running on six cups of coffee and a whole box of pizza, and he should be so _so_ tired, except he isn't. 

_oi, osborn. breakfast?_

He doesn't receive a reply until six o' clock, and at that point, he's taken a break from his dad and Oscorp and Roosevelt. He’s spent the last ten minutes laughing his ass off, replaying a video of this Russian guy freaking out while trying a roller coaster demo for Oculus Rift.

_oh god, can we please have fast food_

Peter laughs.

_mcdonald's? or taco bell?_

_taco bell pls_

_i'll meet you at eight._

_let's make it brunch at 10. take a nap, peter_

Peter rolls his eyes, doesn't bother replying because Harry's probably nodding off to sleep again. He follows Harry's advice and sets an alarm for nine o' clock. When he wakes up, he definitely doesn’t expect Harry to already be downstairs, helping Aunt May with the laundry. The sneaky bastard.

"I thought we were going out," Peter says, staring at the mountain of burritos and tacos on the table.

"We are. Later. You're gonna take me to Pizza Hut and Mcdonald's and In-N-Out all the gross fast food restaurants there are out there," Harry says, his tone matter-of-fact.

"You boys are just asking for indigestion," Aunt May tuts. She pats Harry's hand and shoos him away. "You eat your breakfast now. I'll finish up here."

"So, Parker. What kept you up all night?" Harry asks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Skyping with my secret supermodel girlfriend," Peter deadpans.

"Ah. Same as me, then," Harry says, grinning as he bites into his burrito.

"Asshole," Peter mutters under his breath, rolling his eyes.

"Aunt May, Peter said a bad word!" Harry flails in his seat, and god, if the paparazzi could see him now.

"Hey, now, don't include me in your little fights," Aunt May says.

"Yeah, she doesn't want to hurt your feelings by siding with her favorite nephew. And don't talk with your mouth full," Peter says, stifling his laughter.

"Hey, I'm allowed to be disgusting with my bestfriend." Harry shrugs.

"See if you still call me your bestfriend when we get stomachaches later."

"We are _not_ going to get stomachaches!"

Sorry to say, they _do_. They throw themselves on Peter's bed, clutching their stomachs and groaning incoherently until Aunt May takes pity on them and buys medicine. Harry still calls Peter his bestfriend because, as he says, Peter has _the best aunt in the whole wide world_ ever.

 

 

The next day, Harry has another meeting, which means another batch of documents on his to-read list. Because he's Harry Osborn, the boy who could keep up with Nerdy Petey, he plans to finish all of them in one night. They aren't supposed to meet that day, but Peter surprises him by showing up in the Osborn Mansion at six o' clock, grinning like an idiot and carrying a huge tupperware container of food.

"Is that Aunt May's Special Spaghetti?" Harry says, and all he can do is stare in awe when Peter takes the lid off.

"With extra hotdogs just for her second favorite nephew," Peter says, nodding.

"I'm so happy right now that I'm going to let that comment pass."

Harry takes the spaghetti and sets it on the table before he opens his arms to hug Peter.

"Best aunt _ever_ , dude," he says, clapping Peter on the back.

"Have dinner yet?"

"You know me. Of course not."

They arrange themselves on the floor, sitting Indian style across each other. They don't even bother with plates. They dig in immediately, making a contest out of it. Who will get the last bite? Except Peter may or may not be letting Harry win.

"This is even better than I remember," Harry says, letting out an honest to god moan. "I could die tomorrow and I'd still be happy."

"You know, she almost made meatloaf," Peter mumbles, spearing hotdogs with his fork. "I had to stop her by hiding all the ground beef."

"Oh god. Stop eating. I'm going to hug you," Harry says, and he does. He shuffles to Peter's side and pulls him in, kissing him on the cheek messily for good measure. "You're awesome. You deserve an award.”

Peter laughs. "You sap."

"I'm not being a sap, man. I'm being honest. We're having a moment," Harry says. He pulls away, but doesn't move back to where he was sitting before. "Seriously, though. I never thought I'd see you again. I thought that you'd forgotten me too. When I went to boarding school, I mean."

"Har," Peter sighs, his voice soft. "Harry, come on. Of course, I didn't."

"But _I_ did. I tried." Harry shoves a spoonful of food in his mouth, as if that’ll distract Peter.

"Hey, I told you already. I understand why you did it. We're good." Peter wraps an arm around Harry's shoulders, leaning closer because maybe, just maybe, it'll make Harry _see_. All that matters is he's back and that they're together again, falling back into rhythm.

But then Harry looks at him, looks him in the eye, and Peter can tell that there's something very, very wrong.

"I have to tell you something." Harry gulps nervously, looking so broken and sad and _confused_. This is hard for him, but all Peter can do is hold him a little tighter. "My dad's disease—he called it the Osborn Curse, you know? It's—"

Harry's voice breaks, and he presses the heels of his hands against his eyes.

"Hey," Peter murmurs, pulling Harry into a real hug. He can feel where this conversation's going, but he refuses to believe it. That can’t happen. Not to his bestfriend. Not to Harry. "Har. You're okay. I'm here and you're okay."

"It's genetic, Pete. I'm dying."

Harry's shaking, sobs wracking through his whole body. Peter can't think of anything to say, anything to take away all the desperation and the hopelessness and the heartbreak, so he lets Harry cry. He waits, and once Harry's left sagging against him, exhausted, Peter pulls him to his feet.

"Come on. Let's get you to bed," he says. He has never been so thankful for his superhuman strength as when he's helping Harry to his bedroom, taking almost all his weight. Peter helps him out of his shoes, covers him with a blanket up until his chin, just how he likes it.

"I'm going to find a way to help you, Har." Peter brushes stray strands of hair from Harry's forehead, his hand lingering on soft brown locks. "I will save you."

 

 

The first thing Peter does the next morning is send Harry a text.

_don't be a brat and eat breakfast in bed when your butler tells you to. good morning!_

Then, he digs up Dr. Connors' research and stares at the decay rate algorithm, trying to figure out what went wrong, why the experiment worked for him but turned everyone else into giant lizards. Aunt May has to drag him downstairs to make him eat, and even that doesn't stop him from eating his pancakes in record time and rushing back up to his room. Aunt May doesn't say anything, only shakes her head in worry. She knows how Peter gets sometimes.

The thing is, Peter's missing something. There's something about his dad's research that he doesn't know, that's going to make sense out of all this. He has to find it, because this isn't just for Peter's peace of mind anympre. This is to save Harry’s life.

"Why did Dad tell Uncle Ben to keep you safe?" Peter mutters, staring pointedly from where he's hanging upside down from the ceiling. "What are you hiding?"

He tries everything on the papers. There isn't any hidden writing under a black light. There isn't a code. He still doesn't kmow what _Roosevelt_ means. All that's left is the calculator, which isn't even running anymore. So Peter goes out to buy batteries and some takeout, and by the time he gets back, it's noon and there's an unread message on his phone.

_did you tell the cook to give me blueberry pancakes_

_yeeees, why?_

_i'm buying breakfast tomorrow. and pls remind me to buy you a gift basket_

_you're welcome!!_

Peter's lips quirk up into a small smile, and it stays that way even as he opens the back of the calculator. But of course, when he's faced with piles of D train tokens, he can't help the way his jaw drops.

"Holy shit," is the first thing that comes out of his mouth because, well, _holy shit._

 

 

The first thing Peter says when Harry arrives at their doorstep, promised breakfast included, is, "I've found something."

"Well, good morning to you too, Pete," Harry says, raising an eyebrow.

Peter rolls his eyes. "No, really. I found my dad's research. I think this is it, Har."

"What? Peter, this is—I need to sit down." Harry pushes past him, heading for the kitchen. His hands shake when he sets his paper bag on the table, but his eyes are fixed on Peter, demanding yet _scared_.

"He didn't tell your father, but the DNA he used with the spiders was his own," Peter says. He takes a chair out, and sits facing Harry. "This is what I've been missing, and I think we can do it, Harry. We can cure you."

"Shit." Harry clasps onto Peter, buries his nose in the crook of his neck. "Thank you, Pete. I don't know where I'd be without you."

"Obviously, you'd still think sloppy joes are made out of the corpses of high school bullies," Peter says. "Now, what did you bring me?"

Waffles and sausages, it turns out, because Peter used to love them—still does. Whenever he slept over at Harry's back when they were kids, he'd pout and make sad eyes at the kitchen staff until they assured him that there would be waffles for breakfast the next day.

"There's one thing that bothers me, though," Harry says after a while, taking a sip of his orange juice.

"Hm?"

"Well, if your dad used his DNA, then that means the spider venom only works for people who have matching DNA." Harry tilts his head, puzzled. "Doesn't that mean Spiderman's your relative or something?"

"Uh." Peter sets his fork down and grins nervously. This is going to be a long morning. "About that..."

 

 

The rumors start a week after they started hanging out again, which is a miracle in Harry's books. Peter's just stumped.

 

 

Peter finds out because when he wakes up that morning, he has more than ten texts from Gwen and his friends from high school, his facebook is flooded with notifs, and there's an e-mail from Mr. Jameson that looks suspiciously friendly.

"What the hell is going on?" he mutters, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

Flash sent him an unhelpful _nice, parker!!_ , to which he replies _what??_ He doesn't even get past the first line of Mr. Jameson's message, which says _Mr. Parker, I understand if you want to keep things private, but Harry Osborn is, and always will be, a public figure._

Even worse is Gwen's _so, you and harry osborn, huh? ;)_ because he knows her, he recognizes her teasing for what it is. He just doesn't get _why_ she's doing it. So he turns to the only person who might make sense. He calls Harry.

"Why is everyone asking about me and you?" he says the moment he hears a cheery _hello_ from the other end of the line.

"Apparently, we're dating," Harry says, in that carefree, lighthearted way of his. "I'm guessing you haven't read the articles yet."

Peter groans. "Do I want to?"

"Uh. Probably not. They're making us out to be long lost lovers or something. Some people are saying we've been hiding our relationship from Dad since forever because, I quote, the pressure the Osborn legacy made it difficult for the star-crossed lovers to open up about their _inclinations_." Harry snorts. "I had a good laugh over them."

"Oh my god. I don't even know what to say." Peter scrunches his nose in distaste. "Star-crossed lovers, _god_ , I hope Aunt May never hears about that one."

"What, you're not worried the good miss Stacy will read the tabloid headlines?" Harry says, and he's only teasing, but his laugh comes out wrong, dark enough that Peter hears the difference.

"No, of course not. I mean, she's heard, but I'm not worried." Peter shrugs. "We're friends."

"Oh. So you won't mind if the next time we have breakfast together, it'll be a date?" Harry says slowly, careful and _hopeful_. "None of that long lost love crap, I promise."

"I, uh. Yes. I mean, no!" Peter smacks himself, embarrassed. _Shut up and start making sense, Parker._ "I mean, I don't mind. Please bring pancakes?"

Harry laughs, his relief ringing in the air loud and clear. "Okay. Okay, Pete. See you in an hour."

When Peter finally snaps out of staring at the ceiling and smiling like an idiot ten minutes later, he shoots a text off to Gwen.

_yep, i think so. heh._

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up on [tumblr](http://connerkent.tk/)!


End file.
